


A Fascinating Mind

by Paved-With-Good-Intentions (Emzo)



Series: dbh rarepairs week 2019 [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angry Gavin Reed, Connor Deserves Happiness, Creepy Elijah Kamski, Dubious Consent, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Elijah Kamski Being an Asshole, Fluff, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 01:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emzo/pseuds/Paved-With-Good-Intentions
Summary: Connor is a young, highly intelligent University student. He discovered early on that he had a talent for collecting the small details and putting together how they fit into the big picture. His adoptive father, Hank, was the one to notice his abilities soon after he came to him as a teen. He allowed him to join him on cases, and Connor realized his talents will be well suited for criminal investigations. He can look at the world around him, and put the puzzle peices together. That is, only if it is other people's interactions.Due to years as a child in an abusive household, he has difficulty understanding people and their motives when it comes to himself. His brain stops working and his anxiety thinks up all the worst possibilities. It's to the point where he isn't able to trust his judgment in social situations. He frequently ends up coming off as robotic and cold when he gets anxious or doesn't know how to react. Now, one of his professors is showing interest in him and he doesn't know what to think. He's worried and uncomfortable, but he isn't sure if Professor Kamski has ulterior motives for asking to meet with him, or if he is just being paranoid like usual.(See notes for details about warnings)





	A Fascinating Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all. The tag warnings are there for a reason, but personally I don't think it is as bad as they make it look. If any of the tags concern you, and you aren't sure if this is safe for you to read or not for trigger reasons, please read the notes at the bottom of the chapter. The notes at the bottom will be slightly more spoiler heavy, but shouldn't take away from the story if you decide you want to read it. 
> 
> I wrote this for DBH Rare Pairs Week, day 2 but it has gotten a little away from me so not only is it late, it will end up being a couple chapters long. The prompt was HS/University-Unrequited. My idea was university; Kamski is a professor and has a creepy unrequited thing for Connor (a student) There will be some cute Convin fluff later on, but Gavin doesn't appear until the second chapter.
> 
> TW: Depictions of panic attacks and disassociation. Non-Con/Dub-Con Kissing and mild groping scene from the perspective of someone panicking and disassociating. Vague mentions of a bad childhood.

He was focused on jotting down notes on his new theories and ideas. They were nothing concrete; just a flow of facts and possibilities surrounding the case he was consulting on. His train of thought abruptly slammed to a halt when a stack of paper plopped on the desk space next to his work. He blinked in surprise, attention switching to the hand that held the paper. A masculine hand with short clean nails and clauses on the sides of a few fingers. Maybe plays an instrument? Too difficult to tell. He looked back at the papers. Oh, yes, his essay - he remembers now. They were to be returned today. So likely the male TA. Is his name Jeremy… Jared? A name with a J sound he was sure, but he hadn't been paying attention during introductions. Normally he was very good with details, but he had been distracted with another case at the time.

He expected the hand to release the essay and move on. It didn't. Whoever it was, was apparently just standing there waiting for something. Couldn't they tell he was in the middle of something? Does the TA not have other essays to hand out? 

“Connor Anderson?” The man asked; the words were spoken clear and conversational. He glanced at the top of the essay. Yes, It was his. Maybe they just needed to verify his identity; that he was the correct person?

“Yes, that is my essay,” He confirmed. He kept his head down and returned to what he had been working on. The crime scene, a woman murdered but found in a room locked from the inside. There were no other entrances, only the locked door. How did the killer-

“Ahem,” the man pointedly cleared his throat. The hand from his essay dropped onto his sleeve covered forearm. Connor jumped in his seat, yanking his arm away. There may have been fabric between their skin, but he was still so uncomfortable with casual human contact. For so much of his life, contact had very negative associations. The touch had surprised him, and now he could feel his heart skyrocketing, a buzzing noise growing in his ear. Dammit Connor, not again, not now. 

He reminded himself there was no need to panic; it was just a casual touch on the arm to get his attention. It wasn't sinister; they weren't trying to trap him or harm him. He lowered his hands to his legs under the desk, bringing his arms out of the range of contact. He took a moment to breathe deep, slow, controlled breaths. He listed facts in his head to center himself in the present moment; where he is, what he did today, and so on. He had gotten very good at the technique at this point in his life. Besides, this had only been a minor incident so it only took a few seconds to calm himself down. However, that was still several seconds of sitting ramrod straight with his eyes closed, in a lecture hall, with someone waiting to speak to him.

He opened his eyes to see the hand was resting on the desk where his arm had just been. He felt his cheeks flaming-up in embarrassment, but he gathered his courage and lifted his eyes to the person attached to that hand. His eyes met with a pair of ice blue ones set in a long angular face. He blinked in surprise. That was not the TA. 

“My apologies Professor Kamski, I was distracted. Is there something I can help you with?” He asked. He even kept his voice level despite his embarrassment over nearly having a panic attack, over something so small, in front of his professor. A world-renowned genius professor he might add.

Professor Kamski's eyes were searching his face with interest. He looked, from what Connor could tell, to be intently analyzing him. He wondered for a moment if that's what others saw when he was looking at them. He wondered if he was currently getting a taste of what it was like to be around himself. He hoped not, this was decidedly uncomfortable for him and he hoped others didn't feel this way around him. At least, the Professor didn't seem like he would ask him about his behavior a moment ago.

Dr. Kamski leaned in to peer at what he had been working on and then straightened up next to the fold-out desk. “I wanted to tell you I was highly impressed with your essay. I would like to speak to you about it and another matter outside of class. Do you have other classes after this?”

Connor stared at him for a moment, surprised by the request. He had been in the class for two months and this was the first they had ever spoken. “I have a short break followed by a two-hour lecture, but then I'm done for the day.” He replied. 

“Good, come to my office when you're done,” Kamski said, smiling. Then he was gone. He'd moved on to another row to hand out more essays. There were only a few minutes left in the class period. 

What was this about? It was likely just some opportunity the professor found and thought might interest him. But even so, Kamski's smile made Connor feel uneasy. He knew it was a specific smile, trying to convey something, but he couldn't quite place it. It was always so easy for him to read interactions when it was between others. He was a criminology major for a reason. When looking at other people's lives, it was easy for him to analyze behavior and motivation. However, when it was people interacting with him, his ability to comprehend others completely stalled. His brain jumped to every worst-case scenario, and he ended up having to talk himself down from panic. It was especially bad when the interactions were merely friendly and casual, to him they seemed ambiguous and gave his brain so many unknown variables to play with.

There had been a few times during lectures where he had felt eyes on him. He would look away from the projection screen to find the professor watching him. He would feel himself beginning to think of things he might have done wrong, but then the gaze would move on to others around the room. As soon as the focus was off him, Connor was able to calm himself down and write it off as meaningless. He would tell himself he was just paranoid, he hadn't been doing anything wrong, so there was no reason for the professor to single him out. So now that he is being singled out, he has to remind himself that it's only because of the essay. As the man said, it impressed him and he wants to chat. There are no ulterior motives here. He has done nothing wrong. 

  
  


⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻⤺⤻

Two and a half hours later he was staring at Professor Kamski's office door. He was holding a shaking fist up in front of the door, hesitating, working up the nerve to knock. 

** **

** _ 'Just do it already; get it over with. He only wants to chat. What would Hank tell you? He would tell you to look at the situation from a 3rd party perspective. A professor wanting to speak with one of his students. There is nothing unusual about that.’_ **

His adoptive father had done a lot for him in the seven years since they first met. He was a gruff man, didn't seem at all like the kind or gentle type. Contrary to that, he had always been caring and understanding with him. Hank was able to help Connor use his hyper-rational brain to power through the damage left by his trauma. When that didn't work, he was simply there to listen to his irrational fears, and be there for him through a melt-down or panic attack.

Hank was one of the few people whose touch was comforting to him. He was permanently associated in his mind with safety. It was no wonder, since not only had he adopted him as a teenager and then been there for him constantly, he was the one who rescued him from the hell he had been living in. If at the very least the police had gotten him out of his situation, but Hank hadn't been there, he would have ended up in the system. As a teen with special needs, who knows where he would have ended up if that had happened, where he would be today. Nowhere good, and he doesn’t want to contemplate further than that.

Taking a calming breath and letting himself fall into his polite neutral persona (which Hank called his robot mode) he knocked on the door. “Professor Kamski? It's Connor Anderson. You asked me to meet with you.” 

The response came only a second later, the voice muffled by the heavy wood of the door, “Please, come in Connor.” He opened the door, stepping into the man's large office. To the right was an oversized, handmade, dark wood desk. It was bare other than a computer monitor. Behind it sat a large comfortable looking black leather chair. The rest of the decor was sleek and modern, the desk the only old world item in the room. A dark grey rug on the floor beneath the desk. The floor left simple concrete, but it had been smoothed and polished. The walls were a clean white and the far wall was almost entirely taken up by a spotless glass window. In front of the window was a long row of waist-high tables completely covered in strewn wires, electronic parts, books, tools, half-assembled projects, and empty food and drink containers.

This is where he found the professor. Dr. Kamski was standing at one of the tables, a small chrome lamp illuminating his workspace. Connor wasn't surprised to see that the professor was working on his private projects in the university office. It was well known that he was independently wealthy from the tech company he started when he was still only a teenager. As far as anyone could tell, the man only taught classes at the university because he felt like it. So while Connor wasn't surprised to see that the professor was fiddling with some electronic device, he was curious to see what it was that the man was working on. 

Curiosity got the better of him and he approached the table to stand next to the professor. The device appeared to be a portable computer of some sort. It was a small handheld device with a touchscreen interface. There was a hatch in the top, but Connor wasn't sure what that was for. He had a base knowledge of electronics, but it wasn’t his strong suit. He could make simple repairs, upgrades, and replace parts, but wasn't knowledgeable enough on the subject to build things from scratch like the man next to him. 

“What is it?” He asked.

“This is what I asked you here about,” the professor continued fiddling. “It's a mobile biological sample analysis device, although It doesn't appear to be working at the moment,” he said before opening the back panel on the device to look inside.

“I don't understand. What does that have to do with me?” He said as he stared at what Professor Kamski was working on. Then he noticed the slightly loose wire preventing the device from powering up. He spoke up automatically. “Professor, there is a loose wire here,” he said, pointing to the spot.

The professor froze, his surprise evident, but recovered quickly and angled the device to get a better look. “I see there is. You know electronics.” He said, lifting his approving gaze to look at Connor. “Yes, that will suit nicely.”

Connor was only getting more confused. “I still don't understand why I'm here Professor.” He watched as Kamski re-attached the wire and powered up the device.

“Your work caught my attention earlier in the semester, you caught my attention. I found myself fascinated by you, so I had my personal assistant look into you. You are 22 years old and already close to finishing off your second Master's Degree.” Kamski said in a conversational tone. Connor was staring at the man in shock. His piercing eyes staring back, observing his reactions. He had… looked into him? That seemed a little unethical to him. He is one of his students after all. 

The Professor continued speaking, “You were adopted by a Detroit Police Lieutenant at fifteen, and it was quickly discovered that you have a knack for solving puzzles. You have been helping on cases since then, and became an official police consultant at 18.”

Connor cleared his throat, he felt exposed. He was being examined, and he felt like an ant under the magnifying glass of a child. “Professor, why am I here?” He asked, but this time with a harder edge to his professional tone. The man was being highly unprofessional, and Connor was running out of the patience needed to deal with him avoiding direct answers.

“First of all, please, call me Elijah,” he said giving Connor what was probably meant to be a warm smile. “I have a proposition for you,” he continued, “You are in need of a thesis supervisor, and I find myself in need of assistance. The solution is simple enough, you help me with my projects, building and testing them in the field,” he lifted the analysis device and waggled it at Connor, “and I will oversee your thesis,” he finished matter of factly. Then he stepped closer to Connor, his voice dropping to a lower, husky tone. “ Then there are the other... benefits, I could provide you. Should you wish.” 

That last part immediately had Connor on edge, and he took a step back from the man. He certainly had a way of making him feel uncomfortable. Even so, he had to consider the proposal seriously. He had to admit that the arrangement would be a good opportunity. Elijah Kamski as his thesis supervisor would go a long way to lend credibility to his work. However, he still felt uneasy, and like there was something he was missing. The first part was a simple business proposal. That bit at the end though? the look in Dr. Kamski’s eyes, the tone in his voice, could the professor actually be… hitting on him?

“Professor, I have to ask, why me?” He asked, panic seeping into his voice. He took a deep breath, gulping at the possibility the professor was coming on to him, “and what do you mean by- benefits?” 

The professor set down the analysis device and focused his full attention on Connor. He stepped around him, eyeing him up and down. Connor turned to stay facing him as he moved. He was now standing with the tables behind him. The professor looking at him from only just outside his personal space. 

“I told you already, I find you..” The professor paused, considering his words. He stepped closer, his eyes resting on Connor’s lips. Connor tried to back away, but only ended up braced against the table. This was weird, it felt off, wrong, and he could feel himself beginning to panic. The professor stepped up closer to him, and he tried to retreat again only to end up seated on the table. The professor was now standing between his legs, thighs pressed to the table's edge, and face only a few inches from his. Kamski’s hands were braced the table, arms on either side of Connor. “Fascinating,” he finally breathed out. “and I believe I told you to call me Elijah.” He said as he leaned in, pressing his lips against Connor’s jaw. 

Connor could barely hear him with the blood pounding in his ears. He could feel himself shutting down, receding into his mind to escape what was happening and he hated it. “I- I, I’m...” he mumbled out not even sure what he was trying to say. Then he could tell there was a hand in his hair pulling his head back, and lips on his neck, and he was gasping for air because he couldn’t breathe. In his head he was yelling at himself to just tell him to stop, to push him back. He needed to tell him that this is inappropriate and making him uncomfortable and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get any air. All he has to do is tell him to stop, to back off. 

However, he does none of those things. He knows his eyes are wide but otherwise, his face is likely completely neutral. It's been seven years and he hates that he still reacts the same way he did as a child. He hates that his automatic defense mechanism is disappearing inside his own mind to a safe place and just waiting for it to be over. He's an adult and he should be able to just say, “no.” It’s literally only one word; it shouldn’t be this hard! But he’s never been in this type of situation before, so his brain does what it always has when things are too much. He feels the hand pressed into his thigh and the other at the buttons of his collar, and he shuts down completely. He knows his body probably goes even more lax and compliant, but it doesn’t matter because, he can't do anything, he can't feel anything, can't see anything, can only hear the blood rushing in his ears as his conscious brain retreats to the garden he cultivated in his mind as a child. 

**Author's Note:**

> DETAILED TRIGGER WARNING: for those of you worried about it. Connor has a panic disorder and doesn't like being casually touched by people because of childhood trauma. There is a mild bout of panic earlier in the story but the big whump is towards the end. At the end, there is a scene with Kamski being a creep and making a move on Connor. Connor panics and starts to disassociate in response, he is unable to say no (or anything) in his panic. Kamski is a self-centered idiot and misinterprets Connors panicked breathing and compliance for arousal/reciprocation. It doesn't go past some touching and then kissing down the neck before Connor nopes into his head and turns into a rag doll. If you want to avoid the scene, then stop reading after you get to the point in Kamski's office where Kamski has just given Connor his work proposition. When the next chapter is posted you can pick up there without missing anything important.
> 
> let me know if there are tags I should add or warnings to include. Let me know what you think since I pulled this idea and universe out of a back corner of my brain so I have no idea how it will be received. 
> 
> Link to my tumblr for those who are interested in yelling at me or stalking my DBH shitposts  
[Shitposts Blog](https://road-paved-with-dbh-shitposts.tumblr.com/)


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